


If Only For a Moment.

by bizzybee



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Depression, F/F, Femslash February, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, but it's pretty vague, in description, ok ill say it straight dorothea has a lowkey mental breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 17:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzybee/pseuds/bizzybee
Summary: "It was good enough to see them happy, if only for a moment."Dorothea is tired. Tired of the war, tired of killing, tired of her friends dying, and tired of denying her feelings for a certain someone, no matter how hard she tries to.Written for the Edelgard server Femslash February content exchange!
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Comments: 13
Kudos: 135





	If Only For a Moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Modern romance is somehow drawing your girlfriend's name for a server-wide content exchange. 
> 
> Written with love (and apologies for the angst)!

_Ethereal Moon, 1185_

Bright light illuminated the dining hall of Garreg Mach, corners still shadowy where the lanterns didn't quite reach. 

Despite the constant stress and sorrow that had hung over the monastery like a dark cloud ever since the war had started, the buzzing energy in the room sang of pent up emotion that finally had an opportunity for release.

Professor Byleth, long since thought dead by all but Edelgard, had returned at last. 

Dorothea watched as the Black Eagle Strike Force gathered around Byleth; Edelgard at their side and Mercedes with her hand clasped in theirs. Bernadetta and Linhardt stood with a hand on each arm while Caspar stood behind them, on his toes, trying to get Byleth's attention between their shoulders. Ferdinand and Hubert, having already greeted the professor, stood to the side, conversing quietly, while Ferdinand beamed in Byleth's direction. Even Hubert had a small smile on his face. 

Dorothea had already wished Byleth a happy return, and was sitting at one of the tables that had been pushed against the wall to make room for their impromptu celebration. While she was as excited as any to see their old professor back, the depression that had engulfed her for the past long while made her weary of all the talking, all the yelling, all the sounds of boots on the floor and bottles hitting tables. 

And so she sat, watching her friends, one hand on the table behind her and the other in her lap. It was good enough to see them happy, if only for a moment. 

A gentle tug on a lock of hair near her ear made Dorothea turn.

"Hello, Dorothea." It was Petra, smiling brightly, a glass in one hand while the other let go of Dorothea's hair to rest in the space on the bench between them. 

"Hi, Petra," Dorothea smiled warmly. "Aren't you the social butterfly of the evening." It was true - Petra had spent most of the night surrounded by fellow soldiers, laughing and eating and singing. She'd grown so much more sure of herself since their first months in the Academy all those years ago. 

"A butterfly that is social?" Petra wondered. Dorothea opened her mouth to explain, but her friend pressed on. "Never the mind. I am wondering why you are not having a celebration with us." She nods her head towards the rest of the group. 

"I'm tired," Dorothea admitted. "I'm gonna head to bed soon, but it's nice to see everyone so happy for once."

"Yes," Petra agreed. The two sat in silence for a moment, both watching Jeritza try to pull Byleth away for a private chat as Edelgard resolutely refused to let go of them. 

"It's nice to have Byleth back," Dorothea commented. "I hope this makes things easier for everyone. Maybe now this war can finally get moving."

Petra nodded. "I am knowing that you are not happy with the war, Dorothea. I am sorry you have to be fighting."

Dorothea turned to her. "Oh, Petra, it's alright. It's all worth it to see the damn Church finally fall. I just hope that after this all ends, _if_ it all ends, we'll be able to breathe for a second."

Petra reached out a hand and placed it over the one Dorothea was resting on the table. "The war will be ending. I am promising." The look in her eyes was so serious, so genuinely kind, that Dorothea couldn't help but smile. 

"Thanks, Petra." She turned her hand palm up, entwining their fingers. "I hope so."

"I know. I am promising."

The two sat in silence, turning their attention back to the rest of the hall. Dorothea sighed after a few minutes, letting her head fall onto Petra's shoulder. Petra rested her head against Dorothea's and lazily stroked the back of her hand with her thumb. They watched their friends as they celebrated, all the sadness of war pushed to the side for just a night.

Dorothea enjoyed these quiet moments with Petra, when she could get them. When they could just forget about the fact that either or both of them could be dead by the end of the week. When they could sit, the two of them, whether it be over tea, a meal, or simply sitting in silence as they were now. It made Dorothea wonder if maybe, after the war was over, after Edelgard had won, if there was finally peace, finally time, maybe... Maybe. 

"I should go to bed," Dorothea yawned after nearly three quarters of an hour, turning her face to briefly press into Petra’s shoulder before lifting it. Everybody but Byleth and Edelgard had split into their own small groups by now. "I'm sure we'll have a big planning day tomorrow now that Byleth's back." 

"I agree," Petra replied, then hesitated. "Can I be walking you to your room?" 

"No, silly, you enjoy the party." Dorothea pulled her hand out from under Petra's and stretched her arms above her head. "I'll be alright."

Petra shot her a glance out of the corner of her eye. "I will be enjoying myself more if I am walking with you," she said, and Dorothea paused, arms still in the air. 

She glanced at her and noticed a faint pink blush making its way across Petra's cheeks.

Dorothea had always prided herself on knowing when someone was attracted to her. It happened often enough. Saying so wasn't boasting, it was simply the truth. But here, with Petra, Dorothea was second-guessing her instincts for perhaps the first time.

Yes, she was blushing, but the dining hall was warm with so many bodies pushed together, so nearly everyone was. Yes, she had offered to take Dorothea back to her room, but Petra had always been rather caring for her friends. Yes, they had just spent nearly an hour cuddling on this incredibly uncomfortable bench, but just about everyone was feeling the need for casual physical contact tonight. Edelgard still hadn't let go of the professor's hand, Caspar and Bernadetta were trapping Linhardt in a two way hug, and even Jeritza looked slightly less murderous in the presence of his older sister as Mercedes gently wiped cake crumbs off his face. 

So, she reasoned, what was the harm? She knew she wouldn't sleep with Petra, doing so would severely complicate so many things.

And anyway, that didn't matter because Petra didn't like her. And Dorothea… well. It didn't matter. Nothing was going to happen.

She dropped her arms. "Yeah, sure, okay Petra," Petra smiled, "Thanks." 

Petra stood, and Dorothea followed, giving one last look around the room. Dorothea pointedly ignored the inquisitive raise of an eyebrow Ferdinand gave her over Hubert's shoulder as Petra pulled her out of the dining hall by the hand. 

Petra dropped Dorothea's hand as the two walked across the grounds, the Monastery almost eerily quiet compared to the dining hall as they shivered, night air nipping at exposed skin. 

"Cold," Petra commented, which Dorothea considered an astute observation that required no further discussion. Besides, her teeth were chattering rather quickly, so she wasn't sure if she could respond if she wanted to. 

When they got to Dorothea’s room, Dorothea quickly pushed open the door, blinking as Petra followed her inside without hesitation. _Okay_ , Dorothea thought. Ignoring this, she cast a fire spell into the empty fireplace, which flared to life. Petra huddled close to it, stretching her hands out to soak up the warmth. 

She simply watched Petra for a moment, now doubting her doubts that Petra had offered to walk her back for entirely platonic reasons. Petra simply watched the fire, sighing softly as she thawed out. 

"You should be joining me," Petra looked over at Dorothea. She complied, moving to Petra's side so she could more directly feel the heat of the fire. 

"Are you going to rejoin the party?" Dorothea asked, half trying to fish out what Petra's intentions were. Petra, while always guileless off the battlefield, was the most confusing girl Dorothea had ever known. She hid nothing in her warm brown eyes, and yet Dorothea never knew what she was thinking.

"Maybe," Petra said. She turned to face Dorothea. "You are acting strangely. Is everything being alright with you?"

Dorothea let out a laugh. "Yes, Petra, I'm fine." 

The silence returned. Petra moved to sit cross-legged in front of the fire, and Dorothea glanced down at her. _Okay._ Okay. 

"Are you heading to bed then?" Dorothea tried again. 

Petra looked up at her. "Are you wanting me to leave?"

"You can stay as long as you wish, darling." Dorothea turned her attention back to the fire. Damn. 

Dorothea was starting to feel much too warm. She stepped away, pulling a nightgown out of her bureau. She wasn't going to change in front of Petra, but she hoped this would spark her friend to take some action, any action. She definitely didn't want to hurt her feelings, but she also wanted Petra to tell her what she was thinking.

She was _not_ doing this with Petra tonight.

Dorothea turned back around, watching Petra’s silhouette outlined against the fire. No wonder she was cold, Dorothea thought. She was wearing her traditional war clothes, with the collar attached to a half-top and her skirt. She'd be cold, too. 

She sighed. This was getting tiring. First a party, now a dance. But it was time to end it. 

"Petra, why are you here?"

Petra turned. "I am liking your company, Dorothea. If you want me to be leaving, I will go."

"No, no, it's okay." Dorothea shook her head. Damn. This was going to be uncomfortable. "You're just kind of sending me mixed signals over here, dear. Are you here just to drop me off or here to try and make a move?" 

That caught her attention. Petra started, blinking rapidly up at her.

"Because I'll have you know," Dorothea continued. She could feel herself starting to ramble and, goddess, what had gotten into her? No one could ever make her lose her cool like this, "If you're going to try and kiss me that's all we're going to do, as I make it a point not to sleep with friends." 

"We are friends," Petra agreed, and pulled herself to her feet.

“So?”

"Are you wanting to kiss me?" Petra took a step forward, defiantly raising her chin in the air.

Dorothea considered it. She'd be lying if she said she didn’t want to. Petra had gotten quite beautiful in the last five years, and not only that, but she was sweet, and kind, and fiercely positive in the face of all this fighting. She took a deep breath. 

"I'd like to, sure."

Petra took another step forward, and so did Dorothea. And then another.

"Hi," Dorothea said when they stood chest to chest, looking down at Petra. 

"Dorothea," Petra smiled, then, before Dorothea could even take a breath to prepare herself, Petra's hand was behind her neck, pulling her down to press their lips together. 

And then Dorothea couldn't much think of anything except Petra's lips on hers, the hand on her neck moving up and around to play with her hair for the second time that night, the other wrapping around her waist to press flat against the small of her back. 

Dorothea, for once, was unsure what to do, unsure where to put her hands as her brain short-circuited. She placed them first around Petra’s shoulders, then cupped her face, then wrapped them around the bare skin of her waist. She was seriously reconsidering her "no sleeping with another Strike Force member" rule as Petra bit her bottom lip and then pulled away, kissing a path down her cheek to a spot just below her ear.

"This doesn't have to, ah, mean anything," Dorothea said tentatively, trying to catch her breath as Petra's teeth scraped against her neck. "It's just, oh, post-party fun. Stress relief, you know."

Petra paused, pulling her mouth off of Dorothea but not moving away. "Is that what you are wanting?" Dorothea could feel her breath tickle her neck and resisted the urge to shiver. 

Dorothea didn't answer, though. Her mind was too cluttered, too jumbled and too distracted like this, with Petra pressed against her in the soft intimacy of her room. 

"It's... complicated," Dorothea winced. Goddess, that's an understatement. Did she like Petra? Quite a bit. Did that mean they could feasibly be together? Not a chance.

Dorothea felt rather than heard Petra sigh, and then the other girl pulled back to look at Dorothea, removing the hand wrapped up in her hair and dropping it to her side. 

"How is it complicated?"

"Petra, there's just so much going on right now, and the war, and survival, and you have to find someone to take back to Brigid who can secure your future with the Empire..," Dorothea trailed off when Petra stepped back. Her arms fell uselessly to her side. 

"I have understanding," Petra said. Dorothea could see the hurt in her eyes, but had no idea how to make it go away. So she didn't say anything, just stared back at Petra and hoped that the other girl could see what she was trying to convey through eye contact. 

"Petra," Dorothea tried to reach out and take her hand, but Petra took another step back. 

"I should be going," Petra said. "We will be having battle preparations tomorrow. I do not want to be too tired to be adding to the conversation." 

"Petra."

"Goodnight, Dorothea." Petra hesitated, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I will be seeing you tomorrow, yes?"

"I guess," Dorothea said. "Can we talk about it before you go? I can explain-"

"I have understanding," Petra repeated, smiling sadly. "It is all right. Do not be worrying, my friend."

Dorothea could do nothing but watch as Petra opened the door and walked into the cold night, one hand coming up as if to brush a tear off her cheek as the door closed.

"Shit," Dorothea said to herself after standing alone in her room for a moment, smoothing down her hair and then sitting on her bed, head in her hands. 

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. What the fuck was she supposed to do now? She knew she'd just royally fucked things up with Petra, and found herself wishing she would have reacted really any other way - told Petra she wanted this to be casual for now before they even kissed, maybe fucking admitted her feelings to herself and to Petra at the same time, or even never brought Petra back to her room in the first place. 

She could talk to her tomorrow, right? Try and explain things? God, she couldn't let this affect the war effort; the whole reason she had come up with the stupid rule about not sleeping with Task Force members was to separate her role in this conflict from pleasure, and now she'd royally fucked that up. One look from Petra's brown eyes, one tug of her hair, and she'd melted. 

It was all too much. She didn't even want to think of what Edelgard's face would look like if everyone found out, though she doubted Petra would tell and neither would Ferdinand, if he put together the pieces of what happened. 

Shit. 

This was going to be a disaster.

_Lone Moon, 1185_

Darkness clouded the eaves of the goddess tower, and Dorothea's thoughts.

She had killed Flayn yesterday. Watched as the Meteor spell hit, listened to her final, desperate cries for her father's help that were abruptly cut off. And then everything just stopped. Dorothea heard nothing but screaming that she had only later realized was her own.

Now, she felt sad, she felt angry, she felt embarrassed. She had nearly collapsed on the battlefield, only coming back to herself when a lance almost hit her left side, blocked by a gauntlet and a "Dorothea, fucking _move_ ," from Caspar. 

After the fighting had ended, all Dorothea could do was stare at Seteth and Flayn's lifeless bodies, laid side by side on the blood-splattered ground. Linhardt, and then Mercedes, and then Manuela had all checked and double-checked Dorothea for injuries, poison, anything that could explain her lethargy. Dorothea didn't have the energy to tell them that nothing on the outside was wrong. 

She was just very, very tired. Tired of the fighting, of the death, of the killing and the blood and the utter loneliness she feels when she's trapped in her own head. 

As soon as they arrived back at Garreg Mach, Dorothea separated from the group, waving off both cheerful invitations to come celebrate their most recent victory and ploying questions wondering if she was all right. She had arrived in her room, and without even disrobing, fell onto her bed and into a deep and restless sleep.

She awoke hours later in her pitch-dark room, eyes crusted shut and a headache pounding against her skull. 

She had stumbled out of her room, and the next thing she knew she was retching over the side of the railing of the Goddess Tower. When she was done, she sunk down to the ground, knees pulled up to her chest and face buried in her dress. 

And that's where she sat now, shaking, mouth dry and wishing she had a cup of water, or, in an ideal scenario, wine, to wash down the terrible taste in the back of her throat.

She recalled the last time she was here, all those years ago at the Ball. She had accepted an invitation from some Kingdom noble boy she couldn't even remember the family name of. When she'd given a firm no as he tried to push her up against the wall and put his hand up her skirt, he’d cruelly called her a tease and left her there, alone. 

After that, she had actually had a much better time at the dance, spending the rest of the night twirling away with Bernadetta and Petra.

Sometimes, Dorothea wondered if that boy was still alive. 

"Dorothea?" 

Dorothea startled, then glanced up. For a moment, she wondered if she was dreaming, if the thought of her friend had made her appear as an illusion in her mind's eye. 

There was Petra, a lantern in one hand and a flask in the other, wreathed in moonlight, looking positively angelic as she stared at Dorothea with concern in her eyes. 

Dorothea made a show of sniffling and wiping off her face with her sleeves, straightening her back and attempting to appear in control. "Oh, hey Petra. I just came up here to think."

Petra stepped closer. "You have been crying." It was not a question. 

"Oh, I'm all right. Just post-battle nerves, you know how it is."

Petra took another step and then kneeled in front of Dorothea. "You are not needing to lie to me, Dorothea." She set the lantern down and briefly cupped her hand on Dorothea's cheek, handing her the flask. Dorothea, gratefully, took a pull, relief hitting her like the water at the back of her throat.

Petra moved over, sitting against the wall next to Dorothea and stretching her legs out in front of her. 

"Sorry," Dorothea offered. "I'm sorry." She was sorry for so, so much.

After the ill-fated make out session those few months ago, the fallout had been considerably less drastic than Dorothea had feared. In fact, nothing much had happened besides Ferdinand giving her a significant look when he noticed the mark on her neck the next day. But he hadn't asked any questions, and neither had Petra. 

In fact, Petra had acted like everything was normal. She hadn't even blushed when Dorothea caught her watching her, just turned back to the notes she was taking at the war table.

So Dorothea hadn't said anything. Petra never did, either. They had quietly resumed their same, easy friendship, but here, the darkness surrounding them, Dorothea couldn’t help but let the memories from those moments push their way into her mind.

"Are you wanting to talk about it?"

Dorothea turned to Petra. Her eyes were open, worried, but not pitying. 

Dorothea so badly wanted to talk about it. 

“I don’t want to bother you,” she said instead. 

“You will not be bothering me,” Petra scoffed goodnaturedly, and Dorothea let herself smile a little. “I am always talking to you about my problems in childhood. I want to be helping.” She paused for a moment, then reached a hand out, gently laying it on Dorothea’s knee and pushing down so that Dorothea stretched out her legs. Petra left her hand there, thumb gently stroking the side of Dorothea’s dress. “I am here for you, Dorothea. We are friends.”

At those words, at Petra’s reassurance that they were still friends after all that had happened, Dorothea’s walls toppled. She let out a single sob, and that was it. She was weeping noisily, rambling about how it was just so hard, and part of her didn’t even want to survive the war, and she was just so, so tired of fighting and it was so hard to try and see and end to all of this. 

Petra, to her credit, didn’t jump at this sudden outburst of emotion. She simply wrapped one arm around Dorothea’s shoulders and the other one around her front, pulling her towards her in a hug. Dorothea curled up into her side, for once not performing, not even caring at how Petra’s shirtsleeves were quickly becoming wet with her tears. She cried to Petra, and Petra just gently shushed her, running a hand through her hair and pressing tiny kisses to her head.. 

“And not only that,” Dorothea said weakly, after the greater of the sobs had left her and her tears had turned into a steady and silent stream. “But I feel as though I’ve ruined things between us, our friendship, or whatever we had, and I just feel so stupid.” She dissolved again, giving up her last shred of dignity as she reached up to weakly cling to Petra’s opposite shoulder and bury her head into her chest.

Petra, after a brief pause, resumed her comforting in the same way, and the gentle, persistent repetition of her actions gradually calmed Dorothea enough that her breathing evened out and her trembling hands stilled. 

“I’m sorry,” Dorothea mumbled into Petra’s chest. “I know that was a bit… much.” She barked out a self-deprecating laugh and sat up, rubbing her eyes on her sleeve, long past the point of caring. 

Petra just looked at her, keeping her arm around Dorothea’s shoulders. “I am sorry you are hurting, Dorothea,” she said, with all the sincerity in her voice she could muster.

It was almost enough to reduce Dorothea to a sobbing mess again. 

“I am not knowing how to help,” Petra confessed hesitantly. “I am hoping the war ends soon for you. I do not want you to be hurting anymore.”

Dorothea leaned her head back against the stone wall, staring at the sky. “Oh Petra, you are helping,” she swallowed. “Just sitting here with me means a great deal. Thank you.”

“I am happy to be helping, then,” Petra gave Dorothea’s shoulder a squeeze. “You are a good person. I am sorry you are having to fight when you do not want to.”

They paused. Dorothea studied the stars, then squeezed her eyes shut.

“I thought you’d be mad at me,” she said quietly. 

The two sat in silence for so long that Dorothea began to question whether or not Petra had heard her speak. She opened her eyes and rolled her head to the side to look at Petra, to see the other girl staring in her lap. 

“Are you mad at me?” Dorothea asked gently. 

“I am not being mad,” Petra snapped, startling Dorothea, and pulled her arm back from around her shoulders, staring down at her lap. Dorothea turned away again. 

But then, she felt Petra relax beside her. “I am sorry for speaking roughly,” she whispered. 

“Oh, Petra. There’s nothing for _you_ to apologize for.” Dorothea took another long drink from the flask, then continued. “I’m the one who made an ass out of everything that night.” 

Petra looked up, staring straight ahead at the high walls of the tower in front of them. “Dorothea...,” she trailed off for a moment, sighing.

“Yeah?”

Petra turned to face her. “I am liking you, Dorothea. My heart is full at the sight of you. So, I am not being angry at you. Only sad.”

Dorothea froze. 

It wasn't that she didn’t believe it - after that night during Byleth's return (and even before that, if she was being honest with herself), Dorothea had noticed a change in the way Petra looked at her, in the way she talked to her. She just didn't know for sure

And therein lay her dilemma, as Dorothea completely, irrevocably, wanted Petra, too. She wanted those round eyes to show love for her and only her. She wanted an endless amount of meals, and cooking, and singing songs to Petra as she braided her hair in the morning. She wanted it so badly she could hardly breathe. 

But they couldn't. They just couldn't. Nobody knew how long this war was going to last - either one of them could be dead tomorrow. Dorothea didn't want to finally be with Petra the way she wanted, only for one of them to have to live without the other, always thinking about what could have been. Except...

Except. 

"I know what you are thinking," Petra's voice startled Dorothea out of her thoughts. "I am knowing you well, Dorothea. I am not wanting to cause you pain. But if it is helping, I am wanting to be with you. Even if I am dying tomorrow, it is better to be dying when I know that I heard what you are feeling,” She swallowed, then continued. “But neither of us will be dying. I will be making sure of it."

Dorothea felt the tears start to gather in the corner of her eyes again.

She had to admit - Petra had a point. Didn't she deserve to be happy, just a little bit? Maybe she was right. Even if they did die tomorrow, at least they could be happy together, right here, right now. 

"I think I've been in love with you for months. Maybe even years,” Dorothea breathed. She desperately wished she looked beautiful for this confession; Petra deserved for an artistic opera moment with Dorothea at her best, not slumped against a wall with a voice croaky from crying and face red from tears. 

But when Petra looked at her, for maybe the first time Dorothea felt truly seen. For the first time, she didn't feel the need to appear put together, to make sure she was beautiful and physically appealing as though those were her only valuable attributes. She looked like an absolute mess right now, but that was okay. 

She was okay.

Dorothea was the first to lean forward this time, bringing one hand up to cup Petra's jaw and laying the other on her thigh, right above her knee. She turned Petra's head and kissed first one cheek, then the other. She felt, rather than heard, Petra's sharp intake of breath as she kissed her on the lips.

Dorothea had missed this, she thought as she stroked her fingers against Petra's cheek. She had missed Petra, with her quiet warmth, her genuine charm, and especially the unexpected heat behind every press of those lips.

Too soon, much too soon, Petra pulled away. Dorothea leaned forward to kiss her again.

Petra raised a hand up to cup Dorothea’s cheek. "Wait."

"Is everything all right?" Dorothea asked breathlessly, leaning back a bit to give Petra some room.

"I think we should not be doing this tonight."

Dorothea sat back, putting more space between them, blinking rapidly. "Of course, Petra. There's no rush. I'm just-"

"I want to be kissing you,"

"Okay. Me, too." Dorothea waited for her to continue.

"But I am worrying about you." Petra leaned across the distance Dorothea had put between them, brushing a tear off Dorothea's cheek. "I think we should not be kissing when you are so sad."

Dorothea snorted. "I suppose I am a bit of a mess right now," she conceded.

"We are all being messy sometimes. I will clean your mess, Dorothea. And you can clean mine" 

Dorothea couldn't reply. She took the hand Petra had rested on her cheek and turned, kissing the palm softly before clasping it between both of hers. 

"Can you be going to bed now?" Petra asked. "I think sleep will be helping."

"I slept all day."

"Rest without sleep will be helping, too."

"I suppose you're right," Dorothea gave her a small smile, and waited for Petra to stand before accepting her help up. She took another pull from the water bottle as Petra picked up the lantern. 

Petra wrapped her arm around Dorothea's wais, smiling at her as they started down the stairs from the Goddess Tower.

When they arrived at Dorothea's room, Petra walked Dorothea to her bed, sitting her down before retrieving a nightgown from Dorothea's dresser. Dorothea would have taken some offense to being treated like she couldn't do it herself, but upon entering her room, she had been hit with a wave of exhaustion from her episode earlier and could do nothing but sit on the edge of her bed and watch as Petra stoked the fire and set the lantern beside it on the ground. 

Petra handed Dorothea her clothes, and turned so Dorothea could change.

When Dorothea was done, she simply pushed her day clothes to the foot of her bed and crawled under the covers. Petra turned around. 

"You are feeling better?"

"I am, Petra." And she was. Even though sadness still clogged her thoughts, she felt a certain sense of relief. "Thank you. For everything."

"I will stay with you."

"Oh, Petra, you don't have to. I'm sure you'll be needing your rest, too. You've been up all day."

"I will not leave you, Dorothea."

The two stared at each other for a moment, and Dorothea willed herself not to cry again.

Petra tentatively walked over to the bed and lifted the blankets, settling herself against Dorothea's side, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other stroking her hair gently. 

Dorothea let herself take a few deep breaths. 

"How are you?" 

"Better. Still sad, but better. Thank you." Dorothea let herself relax into Petra's warmth, and could already feel herself starting to nod off at the soft feeling of Petra stroking her hair. 

"We will be working on the sadness." Petra pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Dorothea's neck. "We will be helping each other." 

"Yeah. We will." 

"Everything will be alright."

And, for a moment, with Petra beside her, the warm fire crackling and the knowledge that, for tonight, her loved ones were safe, Dorothea believed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come interact with me on Tumblr @officialferdinand


End file.
